The reader's letter underneath has been published in the magazine Paris Match, France, October 23, 1954.
From Mr. G. B..., of Marseilles:
It becomes rare not to have seen a flying saucer, but it is still not very common to have flown on board of one of these machines.
In 1921, a very hot year, I was one day wandering along the slopes of the channel of Nord. I was eight years old and I loved to get lost in the quasi lunar landscapes created both by wastes and the war.
Suddenly, two beings covered of a flexible kind of diving suit spouted out literally among the robin trees. Without any further ado, they grabbed me towards what I believed being a tank [the armored war vehicle] of curious form. They hoisted me in the machine without I being able to resist. I should say "without that I could want to resist." Suddenly I started to cry and I do not know if they were touched but after a few minutes, an opening appeared in the ceiling of the cabin and in a few moments I found myself on the ground.
I had however to walk during a large part of the afternoon before finding me close to the way which I had left five minutes earlier.
When I arrived on our premises, at the night, my parents called me "a dirty little liar" and nobody ever wanted to believe in my story. I can hardly give details on what was the apparatus and its cabin. I was undoubtedly too much upset. I remember only two details: there were square or at least rectangular portholes. The cabin had a kind of flexible couch on which I had sat.
I believe I remember that the "diving-suits" were of metallic appearance. I do not have any particular anatomical memory except that the two beings were very tall and very slim.